"That makes sense, I guess," Hex mumbled.
Jonathan looked away from the grass as he steered the horses toward the ground. He looked bemused.
"You don't think it's harsh?" He asked with a raised brow.
"No, not at all." Hex shrugged at him. "It may sound harsh. Sure. But this isn't just grass. It's the foundation upon which Wrixians will build and live for generations. Looting this is akin to condemning an entire nation to starvation and regression. Death might even be too lenient for such a vile act."
Just imagining someone doing such a thing caused his blood to boil. He had met many people. Many who disliked or hated. But a few among them would stoop so low.
'But these things happen. There are people who would inflict such a future upon others,' Hex seethed inwardly. How did he know such people existed? Simple. The mere fact that such a law existed proved such crimes were committed.
